


Blow Out All The Candles

by lechatnoir



Series: Homeward Bound and the Ragtime Blues [1]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Gen, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 01:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lechatnoir/pseuds/lechatnoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern day AU - Where Gannicus and Sibyl are brother and sister and she's like a mouse trapped in a glass jar and he's a mountain bear, roaring and laughing and full of warmth and he chases the evils away from her mind. She paints and counts her wishes in a glass jar filled with paper stars, hoping that one of them will come true at some point, or maybe it's just her wishful thinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blow Out All The Candles

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't quite know where this is going but it's going somewhere! 
> 
> (Maybe!)

i.

It was always the sound of their old wonky radio playing a static-y tune of some sort of reggae or jazz songs in the morning as the sunlight filtered through the window and the stove was piping hot with the kettle that was boiling water for cups of coffee and tea.

He remembers his mother - somewhat, maybe - singing along to the static buzz and he wonders why they don’t just get rid of the old radio that is quite actually useless and there’s no point for it to be there, but there it was, like an old friend, greeting them when the fourth seat at their table was empty.

(Always empty, because his father found the liquor store to be more of a home then his own family) 

It was just him, and Sibyl and mom and they made do.

It was the smell of pancakes baking and watching the sun dance off of Sibyl’s chocolate curls, seeing her face smile as he would pick her up and spin her round and round and they’d burst into fits of giggles when they’d crash into the cat who’d let out a indignant meow and puff out, which in turn caused more squeals and giggles from them.

(He was 10, Sibyl was 5. They made the best that they could with no father around) 

ii.

Sibyl’s favorite flowers were sunflowers. 

It was as simple as that.

She never asked for much, not on her birthday – she’d rather sit and draw in her room, watch the ships sail on by from the view from their window.

(They lived in a city by the sea, all lights and glass and roaring sounds but the sea was there like an old friend, calming their nerves down and letting them rest at night, filled with dreams of peace and quiet and some sort of _freedom_ that they can taste with the saltwater hopes and dreams and wonder what it is) 

Mom would always try something, try to get her darling little mouse to grow a bit, grow and learn how to interact with others.

She’d push and push and push, but Sibyl would retract retract retract and things didn’t go quite well once Gannicus left for college.

(those days she’d spend buried in books and store away her dreams in a jar filled with paper stars, hoping for something but never knowing what exactly) 

iii.

When he comes back to visit, his hair is longer and his eyes shine brighter than ever, and sure, he might be the older brother but it doesn’t stop Sibyl from acting like a little kid and jumping up into his arms, where she was safe and snug and he was there and he’d protect her because he was her older brother and that’s what big brothers did.

She doesn’t mind that he ends up talking throughout most of dinner, because his voice is as warm as it was when they were little and she feels safe.

(She doesn’t pay attention to the piercing glare of her mother who slowly becomes twisted and bitter and perhaps she’ll join her husband in drowning their sorrows in liquor bottles and eventually camping out at the liquor stores and bars and stop coming home)

She scratches at her wrist, the skin slowly turning pink before puffing out gently and flaring like an ugly viper’s head.

(She laughs and smiles, ignoring the memories of broken china plates and screams that would haunt her dreams for years to come, before the ocean steps in and lulls her to sleep, silver tears and moonbeams kissing her face) 

He notices, but doesn’t say anything, instead he grins like a little kid and offers to take her for a ride on his new motorcycle, to meet a few friends, introduce her to his girlfriend, the works.

She brightens and it’s like there’s a little flame rising in her from the burnt ashes that was her soul.

iv.

They leave early, their mother slumped on the sofa, a few bottles of beer that roll on the floor, empty and worthless and it’s like she sucks out the dreams of everything and anything that she touches.

Like thieves (they like to pretend, and it’s that childhood spark that never leaves her whenever they’re together and it feels like home – a home that she can only picture of having when her older brother is around) they creep away, laughing and stumbling because they’re still quiet sleepy and it’s early, the sun’s barely risen and the air is chilly yet warm.  
It’s a spring day, nothing out of the ordinary, not really.

He pulls her along with him, holding hands and it’s as if they’re little twerps again, pulling little pranks on the cat and drawing the days away.

It feels nice.

( _Feels like home, if you knew what home was, anyway._ )

They reach the place where he parked his bike, and he grins like a Cheshire Cat when he tells Sibyl to get on and she squeaks as the bike leans a bit to the right and she looks like it’s a thousand foot dive to her death rather than just a few inches off of the concrete.

Slowly he helps her get on, and she latches onto him, holding onto him like a lifeline and he smiles, because he missed this feeling, missed looking out for his little chocolate mouse who likes to draw and dream.

(He’s missed his sister, he’s allowed to be calm and gentle and not as loud and obnoxious as he usually is and if anyone disagreed, he’d punch them in the face.)

v.

When Sibyl meets Saxa it’s a complete contrast – Saxa is loud and a wolf, proud and not afraid to come off as intimidating where as Sibyl was a quiet , meek girl. 

(Sometimes he wonders if it was the right thing to do because Saxa looks at Sibyl and flashes her a shit-eating grin and Sibyl looks like she’s about to go and have a heart attack right then and there)

They had ended up at Saxa’s apartment, a moderately sized place, filled with the smell of teas and coffee and paint, and it’s one silver lining that Gannicus sees between the two woman.

“You paint?” Sibyl asks, voice warm and quiet and yet it’s like it’s loud and fills the room instead of stuffing itself in a corner and cowering in the dark.

Saxa laughs and nods, before grinning at her and ushered her over to a easel with a blank canvas on it. 

“Want to have a go?”

Gannicus thinks the two of them can be friends, if Sibyl’s smile is anything to go by.

(It lights up the room and he thinks he can kiss Saxa senseless and start spewing poetry and being a idiot more than usual.)

He’s a bit at a loss of words and he wants to see where this will go so he manages to shift his weight from one foot to the other and pipes up (well, speaks, there’s no need for him to ‘pipe up’ because his voice is as loud as a mountain’s) – 

“So I’ll just run to the deli and get us all some beers, that alright with you two?”

The two women nod absentmindedly, eyes occupied by colors and paints and Sibyl picks up a thin brush and a tube of yellow paint and starts to paint, before noticing Saxa joining in and soon it’s a myriad of colors and feathers and flowers, with a cat dozing on the windowsill and the sound of laughter and something called ‘love’ slowly blooming in Sibyl’s chest.

(She thinks that that was the best birthday present ever, meeting her older brother’s girlfriend, because they became friends at a rather alarming rate and there was all the more blackmail material that Saxa had ever wanted and Gannicus thought that perhaps it was his little sister’s evil twin clone when Saxa brings up his high school days and a mess of badly died hair and afros and laughs as he sputters and chokes on his beer .)


End file.
